


Sick Day

by subarashiiashita



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Sick Character, Tags Are Hard, They Are So Cute It Hurts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:22:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27868333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subarashiiashita/pseuds/subarashiiashita
Summary: Teresa hated being sick. She hated having to rest at home, in pain and fever, while the world was happening outside.(a sequel of s07e04, in which Lisbon catches Jane's flu and he spends the rest of the day taking care of her)
Relationships: Patrick Jane/Teresa Lisbon
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29





	Sick Day

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Um dia de folga](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27867954) by [subarashiiashita](https://archiveofourown.org/users/subarashiiashita/pseuds/subarashiiashita). 



> Hi!  
> This fanfiction is the result of two events: a commented session of The Mentalist, where Fushigikage and I re-watched s07e04 together (Black Market, that episode where Jane catches a cold and makes Lisbon pretend to be a psychic in the precious stones exhibition), and my own experience, because at this very moment I'm stuck at home due to a COVID suspicion in my family (but everyone is fine, although my brother and I have very annoying headaches) and forbidden from returning to work until further notice. Cool, but no.   
> The dream that Lisbon has in this story, in fact, is a dream that I used to have when I had to take the bus because of college - I just didn't dream of Alan, but of my own teachers lecturing me for being late. Tragic. The city called "Porto Alegre", mentioned there, is the city where my college is located.  
> I hope you have fun reading this story as I had fun writing it! Good reading! :D I also apologize for any mistakes, since English isn't my first language.

Teresa glanced at her wristwatch. She was waiting at the bus stop for two hours and nothing! It had been so long since she had used the public transport for the last time... She couldn't even recognize the various lines that passed there. Boston, New York, Las Vegas.... How strange, how could anyone go from Chicago to Las Vegas on a bus like that?

She snorted, her patience exhausted. She was already late for her History test, and her father was going to kill her. The bus stop was getting more and more crowded, and she couldn't see the names in the vehicles arriving - Detroit, Springfield, Porto Alegre... _Porto what?_

\- If you hadn't taken so long to get dressed, none of this would have happened, Mrs. Lisbon.

Teresa turned around, looking for the deep, slow voice that had just come out, and found Alan Rickman - or rather, Professor Snape, with a cape, greasy hair and everything - beside her, with a disdainful look in his eyes. Shocked by the apparition, she was unable to react; in her head, a single phrase echoed.

_What the hell is going on here????_

\----

Teresa woke up suddenly with the alarm clock’s sound.

The sight of the room’s ceiling started a slow relief wave through her body. She was at home, not late for anything and, even better, didn't need to take any bus. More relaxed, Teresa turned to get her phone on the nightstand; when she did, however, a twinge hit her right in the middle of the forehead.

 _Oh damn_ , she thought, as she realized her throat was also starting to hurt. _Damn, damn._

Teresa closed her eyes, thinking about what she was going to do. _No, a cold won't ruin my day. No way._ It took her a few more seconds to take courage to stood up – but she did, in a determined way, and went to the bathroom while ignoring the fact that her head felt like it weighed a few hundred pounds. She took medicine for pain, grabbed some more for later and got ready as quickly as she could for work.

The drive, though not so long, had been excruciating. Each honk seemed to enter Teresa's ears and nudge her hard, directly into her brain. When she finally arrived at the FBI office, the sneezing crisis began; a sequence of four, five, six as she got out of her car. From there, the short walk to the entrance seemed twice as long - or were her steps heavier?

She greeted everyone she saw on her way automatically, and could hardly believe it when she finally got to her desk in the office. Teresa sat down and closed her eyes, trying to recover from the feeling of dizziness that was beginning to appear. _Damn it, not today..._

\- Good morning, Lisbon... Wow, you look bad.

Teresa opened her eyes and found Abbott, holding a stack of papers in his right hand. The crease on his forehead and his arched right eyebrow left no doubt: he was really concerned. _Am I really looking that bad_? She asked herself, while automatically straightening up in her chair and forcing a smile to him.

\- Ah, that's nothing. I slept badly today, that's all.

\- Are you sure? - he replied, not very credulous.

\- Of course yes. I'm great!

Abbott, still with a wrinkled forehead, left the pile of papers on her table. He didn't take his eyes off Teresa, as if trying to figure out what was really wrong with her.

\- Well, then I think you can handle the paperwork on the jewelry case. But if you start to look like Jane two days ago, I'll send you home right away.

\- It's ok. You can leave it to me - she replied, still with her forced smile.

Abbott nodded, still suspicious; but he left, leaving her alone with the papers. She sighed, relieved.

Teresa hated being sick. She hated having to rest at home, in pain and fever, while the world was happening outside. As long as she could walk and do her job, she would do it, even if she had to keep the whole day with a headache hammering at her temples. So she started to straighten the papers to review them, hoping that the medicine would take effect soon. However, the reading proved to be very tiring, and her head seemed increasingly heavy... It was very difficult to keep her eyes open... And, before the agent could notice, she was sleeping with her face stuck in a memo.

\----

\- Reese?

Teresa woke up startled. She looked up and found Patrick, Cho and Abbott watching her, looking very serious.

\- Huh?

\- You were asleep at your desk, and your face looks terrible. Are you unwell, Lisbon?

\- I think she's sick, Cho - said Abbott - and she doesn't want to tell us.

\- Reese, you have to go home and get some rest - Patrick said, placing a hand on her forehead. - You're burning!

\- Jane, you take Lisbon home, and make sure she doesn't stick her nose out. Cho, you can keep her tasks for today. And Lisbon...

Abbott turned to her, who was confused by the rapid exchange of information between the three men. _Seems like he’s delegating tasks to an investigation_ , Teresa thought.

\- You rest and only come back when the doctor says you can come back - he finished, in a very concerned tone, more concerned than any Teresa had ever seen coming from him. - Keep an eye on her, Jane.

\- You can leave it to me.

As Cho and Abbott walked away, Patrick glanced at Teresa, as if to say, "Come on, you heard him." Defeated, she gathered her things and stood up, grudgingly.

\- It's your fault - she muttered, dejectedly.

\- I agree. And I’m sorry. I'll do my best to compensate, okay?

\- Fine.

\- That's my angry little princess - Patrick replied, siling one of his most radiant smiles. He put his arm around her and Teresa sighed once more. She definitely couldn't stay angry with Patrick for a long time.

\----

Teresa huddled on the sofa, adjusting the cover that surrounded her body. After a hot shower, she started to feel better. Soon she could hear Patrick's footsteps, carrying two steaming mugs.

\- Looks good - she said, her voice a little hoarse. - Too bad I can't smell it well.

\- I can make it again when you get better.

\- Oh please, I’d love it.

She couldn't help smiling when Patrick placed a soft kiss on her forehead. As he settled beside her on the sofa, Teresa covered her mug with her hands, absorbing the tea’s heat. She closed her eyes, satisfied.

\- How are you feeling, Reese?

\- The headache is disappearing, but... My throat is getting worse - she said, upset, and took a sip of tea. - And my whole body hurts...

\- Poor thing... But soon the medicine you took will start to act.

She nodded in agreement and drank some more tea. Her eyes were half closed as she enjoyed the pleasant sensation that the heat caused her.

\- At least your fever got down.

\- Yeah. I have weird nightmares when I get sick like this...

\- Seriously?

\- Yes. Just today I dreamed that I was late for school, and no bus stopped for me.

Patrick grimaced, as if Teresa had told him the worst possible event. She finished the tea and stretched to try to put the mug on the coffee table, but her boyfriend took the mug from her hands, putting it away himself.

\- It looks awful. Tell me more.

\- I dreamed I had a History test, and I was two hours late. Buses went everywhere, except for where I wanted to go. There was even a Las Vegas line...

\- Wow, Reese, I wonder how you must have felt.

\- It was horrible. And, to make everything more crazy, I dreamed with Alan Rickman, well, not exactly him...

\- With Alan Rickman? What?

Patrick couldn't help but laugh; he was having too much fun listening to Teresa. The ex- psychic stretched out again, reaching for the television remote.

\- Actually, I dreamed of Professor Snape. And he was criticizing me for being late.

\- Wow. I didn't know you were a Harry Potter fan.

\- I can't say I'm a fan... But the movies are fun. Anyway, when I have a fever, I have these random, weird dreams.

She approached Patrick, resting her head on his shoulder. In response, he pulled her closer, in a protective embrace.

\- What do you want to watch?

\- I don’t know. A silly movie, a series, even a cartoon. What I care about is staying with you.

\- This way you’re going to melt me - said Patrick, with a hint of pride. - Here. One of the Harry Potter movies is playing, I'll put it in your honor.

\- You fool - she replied sleepily, clinging to his left arm and joining their hands. - _I love you, Patrick._

It took him a few seconds to answer her, after struggling to find the ideal volume. When he turned his face in her direction, he found Teresa sleeping soundly, her face against his shoulder.

\- Have a good faint, love. I love you - he said, amused, and turned his attention to Harry, who had just been told by Hagrid that he was a wizard.


End file.
